


Skinny Dipping

by mandysimo13



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case Fic, Crack, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Nudity, Skinny Dipping, if you squint a little - Freeform, what it says on the tin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 23:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandysimo13/pseuds/mandysimo13
Summary: Sherlock and John are out on a case and skinny dipping suddenly becomes /very/ important to solving it after a suspect throws evidence in a pond. Sherlock, of course, dives in head first with John tiptoeing right behind him. After they find their evidence they then find time to "play".





	Skinny Dipping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weneedtotalkaboutsherlock (Paradoxe1914)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradoxe1914/gifts).



> Original prompt: Maybe they're on a case during the summer and there's a piece of evidence at the bottom of a pond, so naturally Sherlock starts stripping to his pants and dives in the water to search for said thing, while John watches, flabbergasted, until Sherlock asks him join him in his search. Once they're both in the water... things happens. (Whatever you choose, first kiss? More? ;) )

John came jogging up to the pond -rather, small lake- of the small, no-name town they were investigating a murder in, panting as he reached Sherlock’s surly form. 

 

Two minutes. He had been in the loo two minutes to empty his screaming bladder and exited only to find their stakeout position missing Sherlock and a message on his phone saying that Sherlock was charging on the chase without him. Not long after that a second message came in with Sherlock’s location. Then the infuriating man hit him with the news.

 

“What do you mean he’s chucked it in,” John asked in disbelief.

 

“I mean,” Sherlock growled out between ground teeth, “that he knew someone was onto him and he tossed the murder weapon in the sodding pond!” Sherlock waved his arms above his head in frustration. “What else could I  _ possibly _ mean by that?”

 

John rolled his eyes and replied, “what I mean to say is, what do you mean he managed to slip by you long enough to ditch the evidence while I was in the loo? You said you had it under control!”

 

Sherlock strode angrily away “I did!”

 

“Clearly not! Now we have to call the police and tell them we’ve lost the evidence.”

 

Sherlock spun on his heel. “Absolutely not. We will not have the police bungling this investigation.”

 

“What? More than it already is?”

 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John and shrugged off his Jacket. Even in the heat of summer Sherlock had insisted on wearing his usual attire of black suit, though he had conceded that the Belstaff would have been overkill.

 

“What are you doing,” John asked.

 

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” He tossed his jacket aside and tugged his shirttails out of his trousers. “I’m going in. And I am  _ certainly _ not going in wearing this suit.”

 

John reached out to grasp Sherlock’s arm, momentarily stilling him. “What do you mean going in? Are you mad?”

 

Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s just a pond, John.”

 

“Yeah, in rural England. You know, snapping turtles are cropping up in ponds all over the countryside, right? Fancy getting your knob bit off by one of them?”

Sherlock raised an amused eyebrow. “What do you care about my knob?” John swallowed thickly, trying to come up with a witty reply. Sherlock shrugged him off and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Besides, if you’re so worried, you can come in with me. Splash about a bit on the surface. Scare off any turtles or otherwise.”

 

John shook his head. “No, absolutely not. You don’t have any goggles, we don’t have a first aid kit if you do get hurt. And, most importantly, they have people at The Yard whose job it is to fish things out of the bloody pond!”

 

“So we’re saving the Queen a bit of money by doing it ourselves.” He tossed his shirt aside and unbuckled his belt. “Besides, it’s like 30 degrees out. I’m hot! A bit of a swim will remedy that.”

 

John threw up his hands in frustration. “You’re doing this with or without me aren’t you?”

 

“Yup,” Sherlock replied, popping the “p” at the end. 

 

“Fine! Fine. Don’t come crying to me if a turtle bites you. See if I care.” He crossed his arms as petulantly as possible to get his displeasure across. He turned his back, not indulging in Sherlock’s whims one bit.

 

Sherlock snorted. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You could use a dip, too. Might make you less dramatic.”

 

“ _ I’m _ being the dramatic one?!” John spun back around to deliver a speech about Sherlock’s own theatrics but was stopped by the sudden swallowing of his own tongue. “Nnngh- _ Sherlock! _ What  _ are _ you doing?!”

 

Sherlock’s pasty bum was staring right at him while Sherlock chucked his pants to lay on the already discarded pile of his clothes. He looked over his shoulder at John and said, “what? I’m going swimming without a suit. Did you think I’d be putting my clothes on over wet pants? That’s just begging for chafing!”

 

Then, without another word, Sherlock Holmes took a step into the pond. He hissed a bit at the cold but didn’t let it deter him. He carefully stepped further in, using the feet attached to his long legs to scope out where the muddy bottom lay. When he was in up to his hips, Sherlock flopped onto his back to float along the surface. He sighed and called for John to join him. 

 

“Come on, John! The water’s fine!”

 

It  _ was _ hot. And he knew the water would feel great. 

 

So, with a long suffering sigh, he began unbuttoning the light shirt he had worn that day. He was very aware of Sherlock watching him, his stormy eyes tracking his movements. John shivered and it had nothing to do with the weather. When he got down to his pants, John stopped, his thumbs hooked into the hem as he noticed Sherlock’s gaze still on him. Now, John Watson -army captain, doctor, former school rugby player- was not a shy man. But he couldn’t help feeling just a touch shy, knowing that Sherlock could see anything and everything in him. He had come to terms ages ago that he had a crush on -was in love with- his flatmate and best friend. He had managed to keep himself under control; fond gazes but no lingering touches, no creepy advances (married to the work), and he tried to keep his Sherlock related wank fantasies to a minimum. But getting into the water naked as the day he was born with Sherlock would be his strongest test yet. 

 

_ It’s necessary, it’s necessary, it’s necessary _ , he chanted to himself internally. 

 

“Excuse you,” John said, trying to sound affronted by Sherlock’s ogling. 

 

“Problem?”

 

“Turn your back,” John insisted. 

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll start looking while you get your bits in here.” With that, Sherlock disappeared beneath the water and John was about ready to put his clothes back on and stomp back to the car. 

 

“Infuriating git,” John whispered to himself. He took his first few steps into the water, biting back a gasp at the cold. Sherlock’s head popped up once, long enough to take a breath, and then he was back under the water to continue his search. In no time, he had acclimated and he had gotten the lower half his body into the water. 

 

Sherlock’s head burst through the water a couple feet away and he sucked in a lungful of air. “John! I think I found it!”

 

“What, exactly, are you looking for? You never did say.”

 

“A candlestick with the family crest on it.”

 

John blinked. “That’s rather damning evidence. Are you sure we’re not in a game of Cluedo right now?”

 

Sherlock giggled as he tread water and said, “honestly. How silly.” Then he sunk back beneath the water, leaving John alone again. He felt silly, standing there alone, looking out for any suspicious snapping turtles or rogue catfish or consulting detectives looking to take the piss out of him. But then Sherlock surfaced once more, triumphantly holding the candlestick above his head. 

 

“Aha! I’ve got it!” He proudly swam then strode out of the water to drop the candlestick by his clothes. 

 

“That it, then?” John started to make his way out but stopped as he saw Sherlock reenter the water. “What are you doing?”

 

“Why do you always ask the obvious? What’s it look like I’m doing?” His long legs propelled him through the water, his flaccid cock swaying with his movements, water dripping down his torso. John licked his lips at the sight. Never before had he ever wanted to lap up gross pond water but Sherlock Holmes had a way of making him want to do all sorts of absurd things. 

 

“How long are we going to be here?”

 

“Do you not enjoy swimming? It’s great exercise. Good for your shoulder, too,” Sherlock told him as he began an effortless backstroke. 

 

John did enjoy swimming. He just wished he’d had a suit. Or Sherlock had a suit. Preferably both. He just wanted an extra barrier between him and certain embarrassment because he wasn’t sure how long he could be in the presence of a wet, naked Sherlock without reacting. 

 

At first, he just stood there in the cool, hip-deep water watching Sherlock swim. But then Sherlock swam up close and splashed him right in the face. John spluttered in surprise as Sherlock laughed, kicking away and out of reach. 

 

“Come on, John! Swim with me!”

 

“I’m good here, thanks,” John said, wiping the rivers of water off his face. 

 

Sherlock disappeared under the water and then John’s adrenaline kicked in. He widened his stance, making it harder for him to get knocked off-balance should Sherlock try to pull him under. His hands went up in the classic self-defense position and he scanned the area for any sign of Sherlock. But all his precautions were for naught. Sherlock managed to slip up behind him and push him from behind into the deeper water. 

 

John recovered himself quickly, bouncing back up to the surface as Sherlock swam closer.

 

“Doesn’t the water feel better over your shoulders and back? You were starting to burn, I saved you from some unfortunate pain later,” Sherlock said, grinning at him as they tread water. 

 

“Oh you cock,” John said, reaching out to grab Sherlock’s arm and tug him close. Sherlock’s body flew to him in the water and he managed to dunk Sherlock under before splashing away to avoid repercussions.

 

They went on like that for who knows how long, splashing and laughing and chasing each other around until, somehow, Sherlock grappled onto him. His legs came to wrap around John’s hips as his arms hugged him close to avoid getting splashed in the face again and John froze, his arms floating limply at his sides. They bobbed in silence for a few seconds, the water lapping around them as they realized the delicate position they’d found themselves in. 

 

The space around them became charged. Electrified. 

 

John chanced a look at Sherlock and found him similarly lost. “Sherlock,” John whispered, licking his lips. 

 

“John,” Sherlock whispered back. His arms loosened slightly but didn’t go away. 

 

John responded by slowly, gingerly, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s back to hold him close. He took a deep breath, licking his lips nervously. From this close, he could see the sun shining off Sherlock’s wet, inky curls. He could see the droplets of water clinging to Sherlock’s eyelashes. He could watch his pulse pump in Sherlock’s neck. He could feel Sherlock’s hardened nipples press into his chest. Under the water he could feel the stiff clutching of his thighs as John tread to keep them both afloat. 

 

He could feel his own cheeks grow warm, his mouth dry out. He could hear their mingled, strained breathing in his ears. He felt his hands flex, trying not to grab hold too hard to Sherlock in case he wanted to flee. He felt his own heart thump in his chest. A shudder passed through him, down his spine, and he realized that he was becoming aroused. 

 

Without his permission, his cock twitched beneath the water, bobbing up hopefully. His hands tightened and he was horrified at himself to find that his hands had slipped lower to grasp Sherlock’s arse. Sherlock gasped, legs tightening and bringing their lower halves closer together. Then it was John’s turn to gasp as his suddenly raging erection became trapped between them. 

 

Right next to Sherlock’s. 

 

His eyes snapped open, not realizing he had closed them, and his mouth hung open as he tried to find the right words to say. He wanted to say something succinct, eloquent, thoughtful. Instead what came out was-

 

“You...you’re hard.”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said huskily. 

 

“Because-”

 

“Because you’re touching me,” Sherlock confirmed. 

 

John nodded, averting his eyes and trying to collect his thoughts. Which was an immense feat considering his heartbeat was throbbing in his penis. Sherlock shifted slightly, hips thrusting into John’s abdomen and it caused them both to whimper slightly. 

 

“John,” Sherlock keened, undulating his hips into him needily. John’s hands gripped him tighter and he buried his face into Sherlock’s neck. His mouth dropped open, panting hotly into Sherlock’s damp skin which caused him to shiver. 

 

“Christ, Sherlock,” John huffed out against his neck. His lips pressed themselves in a slack kiss. “We...we can’t...this isn’t-”

 

“Stop thinking so much,” Sherlock said, a layer of anger in his voice. “Why must you over analyze what is so plainly obvious,” he barked out impatiently. 

 

John pulled his head up. He looked wide-eyed at Sherlock, suddenly irritated. “All that’s obvious to me is that we’re both hard and desperate for a good shag. But I am not someone for you to just use when it’s convenient for you to do so, Sherlock!” 

 

John let go and took a step back, trying to separate the two of them but Sherlock was having none of it. “What’s obvious is that you’re oblivious to the fact that I  _ like you!” _ John stopped his retreat, nearly falling back into the water. He gripped Sherlock again, steadying himself and Sherlock kept going. “I’ve liked you since the very beginning, loved you nearly as long, and I know you’ve been arse over teakettle for me and we’ve both been royal idiots who’ve been dancing around each other for years and finally,  _ finally _ , we get an excuse to stop hiding and you’re still- _ mmph!” _

 

John couldn’t listen to Sherlock ranting for one more second. The confession he’d longed to hear was out of the man’s mouth and John needed to kiss it into his own. Sherlock quickly spurred into action, kissing him back and clutching John’s head as if his life depended on it. But eventually they both had to come up for air and when they did they were gasping. 

 

After catching his breath, Sherlock said, “now, will you please, for the love of god, just touch me?!”

 

John laughed and shook his head. “No.”

 

Sherlock groaned petulantly. “And why not? Are you having some kind of sexual crisis or something?”

 

John laughed and began moving backwards towards the shore. “I’m not having a sexual crisis you berk.” When he’d reached shallower water, he set Sherlock down and kept moving. “But I refuse to have our first time be in the middle of a bloody pond where anyone with half a mind to go sightseeing will really get an eyeful.” He reached out and took Sherlock’s hand to lead him out of the water. “I want to take you back to our hotel room, wash this pond scum off you, then lay you out on our bed where I can enjoy you in private.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes dilated, obviously onboard with that plan. He licked his lips, “I suppose I can agree to suspending activities until after a shower.”

 

“Good,” John said before reaching up on his tiptoes to give Sherlock a soft, lingering kiss. “Now, put your pants on so we can go.”


End file.
